Unfortunate Landings
by TheSpiceOfGinger
Summary: [Post Thor One] [Post Mass Effect 3] [Dragon Age3] Loki simply lands on Midgard after falling off Asgard and wants a stiff drink; good times, despair and mischief go down. Tells of the shenanigans of Loki and friends when the simultaneous explosions of the Crucible, Conclave and the Bifrost send Shepard(fem) and Hawke(fem) to a place and time they have no intention of being in.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first attempt at a crossover fanfiction - please go easy - this upload is the prologue and first chapter - please leave reviews I'm begging.

 **PROLOGUE**

Loki's grip was slipping, he held fast to his brother - no. Not his brother. Thor's hand holding him was firm but Loki's grip wasn't nearly as fast as the God of Thunder's.

"I did it Father!" Loki shouted past Thor to Odin, recently woken, grasping Thor's foot with his renewed strength from the Odinsleep. "I did it for you! For all of us." Odin looked on in woe at his deranged son, the frost-giant he adopted, born to be a king, but never of Asgard.

"No loki."

Loki's face changed - hopeful to please, to betrayed and resentful.

Thor's cry was nothing compared to the pain, fear and regret he faced in the fall:

Two women...Their selfless choices...their unfortunate landings...shortly followed by his.

" _Damnit Anders!"_

" _The crucible is armed."_

 **Chapter One**

"Get back little one - you're no match for me."

"Aha! But I am the God of Mischief and magic and ma-adnes! Way cooler than you!" Two little boys were quickly shushed by their mother and made to sit and _stop being so insensitive._ Quite frankly Robert and his little brother Ned didn't understand at all - Thor and Loki and superheroes were real! Why was no-one else as excited as they were? After receiving a final glare from their mother they quickly stopped complaining and waited silently for their doctor's appointment. Their mother felt tempted to get up and ask the lady behind the desk to turn off the television showing those - those things in New Mexico on the news. Flying men and spear-wielding ladies - she didn't know what to make of it but she wouldn't have her sons getting any crazy ideas.

A _crash_ rang in her ears as another problem limped in the door - A woman with blood matting her hair, trickling out of her ears and a big - stick thingy on her back - it almost looked like a demon's pitchfork. The mother held her sons behind her.

"I was told healing can be found here. I need it. Now."

Hawke was tired, hungry, fed up and bleeding from too many places to care _where the hell_ she was.

"Lady this is a private office - you want your healing you gotta go to a hospital - we ain't got no time for your freaky-dressed problems." Linda the secretary was a fierce guard-dog of appointments - this lady did not have one so she could go right ahead and scram.

Hawke nodded in acceptance. She didn't see the necessity of appointments - one was sick and thus went to a healer why make it complicated? Although - the lady with 'Linda' tagged onto her shirt didn't seem like a chatter so she got to the point.

"Okay, Hospital - where, how far from here, is there a faster way, does it cost anything." She wasted little time asking questions and stated her inquiries.

Linda noted Hawke's mood and responded in kind.

"73rd on ninth street - eight blocks in the direction of the waterfront, ambulance - you don't look like you're insured so I suggest you suck it up and walk sweetheart."

"Well - _Linda_ , when your chantry blows up - what was it? Oh yes - suck it up, sweetheart." Hawke limped out of the office wearing her worst scowl. This place was not where she wanted to be.

"So you're saying that you're actually dead right now and just waiting for this - _Garrus_ guy? I ain't seen him 'round here before but you look like you've had enough." The bartender was sick of listening to the lady who kept ordering the hardest liquor he had and not being nearly affected enough by it - he couldn't tell if she was already drunk when she came in or some kind of extraordinary 'ordinary drunk', if there even was such a thing.

"That's what I've been saying the whole time and my pride prevents me from admitting that death beat me before it beat Garrus." Shepard downed the eighth shot she'd had in the space of half an hour. The death-bar was full of weaklings if this was the best stuff they had - heck, even Joker would laugh at their attempts.

 _Joker._

A nagging feeling in the back of her mind was telling her she wasn't actually dead yet. Yes on the way to being dead, but not quite there. Those feelings having something to do with the fact that she was still in her blood-soaked, scratched up armour, and her body hurt like hell. If there was one thing she knew that good place in the afterlife, is that there shouldn't be pain, and hell couldn't they clean her up before setting her loose into the raving-booze filled afterlife? The actual-life version of afterlife was ten times better than this.

"You look disappointed in the liquor-quality, how'bout we scope out for a place that can actually let me drink away my problems." Shepard received a scowl from the bartender as she addressed the silent pale guy in leather, he'd been there longer than she had judging by the tower of shot glasses and the all-too-disappointingly-sober look on his face.

Loki looked up from his study of the graining of wood in the bar - the woman who had addressed him looked to be frustrated and in need of good drinking company. What did he have to lose?

"Aye, lets." He stood and winced - Shepard did the same.

"Ya know, I don't think I'm actually dead. Shit."

Loki smiled. "Damn."


	2. Chapter 2, Plans

Greetings - I know it's taken ages but this is the next chapter, hope ya'll enjoy it :)

Unfortunate Landings, Chapter Two - Plans.

"He - it - gave you a choice, and your chose to 'destroy' it in a way that would make the cycle repeat itself anyway? Destroying yourself?"

"I brought the entire galaxy together, I fought with everything I had to convince those bastards to fight with me - to save everyone including themselves, I lost...people. Friends. People who cared about me and who I cared about along every step of the way. I wasn't going to end it by not ending it. I chose the only option that justified the war and the losses - the only option that would have meant anything to Anderson, to Thane. It was right and I'm not going to weep over it like a child. And it didn't destroy me - I'm here, a bit broken but I'm alive."

"Well you're acting like a child so you might as well weep like one."

Shepard threw a punch that was harder than her usual hit- Loki winced and swung his left leg to her side, the spectre took the hit and noticed the gap it left in his torso defence - A precise burst of energy from her knuckles to his left abdomen rendered the demi god winded and hunched over pressing his fist onto the concentrated spot of pain. It would leave a bruise.

Shepard sank to the floor and smiled. She knew sparring was not a good idea when she was internally bleeding from at least three different places. Most of her had stopped caring by that point.

Having failed in their search for a place with adequate drink, they settled for a gym that was next door to one of the liquor shops. Loki seemed happy to fight and looked like he appreciated having someone else who had been ripped away from their world - well he hadn't really been ripped - but he did expect to die, not just land in the snow after nearly burning up in Midgard's atmosphere. Luckily Asgardian leather is much sturdier than the norm.

Loki had managed to convince Shepard that yes - they were on earth - as she liked to call it, and not in whatever time she had said she came from - but good ole' 2012 (on Midgard, that is). Loki however had little interest in what the earth-year was - but how to escape _his_ sight. He knew Heimdal would be watching to see where he was, probably under Odin's order. He was weak from constant concealing spells he had to keep renewing, probably the reason why this midgardian's hits were affecting him so much - her hands felt like metal - he'd have to try it again some time when he figured out a way to permanently hide from Heimdal. The way it was going, he'd succumb to the weakness and drop his defenses - he'd be found and brought to Asgard immediately. Although he did not look it, the amount of liquor he had consumed in the bar was more than shepard had thought - Loki was well past being tipsy - probably why he had agreed to go with the madwoman in - rather impressive armour if he dared to compliment her further.

He slumped to the matted floor, and rested his arm across Shepherd's shoulders. She looked at him, and shrugged, clearly not bothered enough to care.

"Why were your drinking away your problems loki?"

"I'm a god, and i'm running away from my fath- adoptive father who happens to be Odin AllFather. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

Despite the hitch at mentioning his 'adoptive' father, loki sounded fine, Shepard thought he sounded rather jolly actually -

She didn't believe him for a second, but she had no obligation to him, honestly she didn't care. She was just making conversation to avoid thinking about her slightly relevant problems.

"Yes, I've heard of him. Perhaps you've heard of my sister; Princess Leia?"

Loki turned to look her in the face.

"Princess? You're a princess?"

"No. The man you told me about, is a character from a norse myth, Odin, father of Thor and many others, also including Loki - the God of Mischief. Just like princess Leia - a character - fiction. Made up. Now I don't have time to return the costume you stole or to return you to whatever asylum you escaped from."

"Your claim to be from the future is no less unbelievable than mine. However, you actually have a lot of time. decades, to be exact. I suggest you make use of it, and help me retain my strength because if I don't, we're probably both dead if they find out who your are."

Shephard huffed. Folded her arms, and unfolded them again.

"Okay then - what's the plan?"

"Good question."

.

.

.

Hawke awoke to find herself restrained to the hospital bed, wearing a flimsy thing that was absolutely not protection and with a tube in her arm - ultimately she was slightly worried about her current prospects - except for the nice change of how clean everything was, but her staff was nowhere to be seen.

"Ahem?"

She coughed loudly at the nurse walking past the door.

"Hi? Thanks - could you explain some things to me please?"

"Depends on what they are, miss."

"Okay then, first things first - what is this?" She pointed to the bag of fluid dribbling its way into her IV tube.

"That's fluid miss, keeps you hydrated and you've lost a lot of blood, we've got to make sure you don't die - that basically helps to keep you alive while you were sleeping."

"Okay that doesn't sound too bad - next. Where are my clothes?"

"They've been washed and - those plate things have been cleaned as best as we knew how and are waiting for when you're healthy enough to be on your way."

"Oh yes they were quite dirty, well then where is my staff?"

He voice turned anxious as her most important possession as well as her armour's whereabouts hung in the balance.

"The pitchfork? It's with the other possessions that you had that weren't washed, at the desk waiting for your departure."

"Okay. I can accept that. Last and final question - don't tell anybody outside of this place about my - pitchfork."

The nurse raised an eyebrow and nodded with a fake smile.

.

.

.

"One wooden pitchfork, nine - um.." George turned the plates in his hand wondering what to call the items.

"Armoured plates." Hawke interjected taking her things from the man behind the desk.

"Okay, and apologies there miss Hawke but the nurses seem to have disposed of your footwear."

Hawke almost let her jaw drop. Her dragon scale capped boots lined with nug skin, had been _disposed of?_ Quickly shaking her head she remembered the kindness these people had shown her, healing her - despite their odd methods - and feeding her as well. Boots - no matter how precious (she held back a furious fist shake) could be replaced.

"I guess I'll have to find a replacement then - what would you have in mind?"

"We have these to replace them with, miss." George bent below the desk and pulled out a pair of black, material - well to Hawke they looked like slippers - hard smooth soles that looked like they wouldn't stop a bread knife, and flimsy material that covered not even up to her ankle. Disappointment flooded her mind.

"Sir? Is this the best you could do to replace my irreplaceable boots?"

George was no longer paying attention but focusing on a smooth rectangular - thing - in his hand. Hawke huffed and walked out of the hospital, irritated and with cold feet.


End file.
